“Sonny won’t let this go,” she went on, in a voice close to breaking. “He won’t stop-and he’ll stop at nothing-until he finds me. What scares me is, if he can’t find me, he’ll go after my family. Like he went after Summer and the children…to get Hal. He’d have killed them, if he’d thought it would serve his purpose. The children, too-without even bunking-”

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Jake said flatly. But it was an automatic response. An angry pulse tapped against his belt buckle, while beyond the windows yet another siren sliced through the night. It’s Saturday, he thought. The hospital would be a busy place, the terminus of the night’s sweepings, the usual debris from the bars, back alleys and… Back alleys…

His heartbeat quickened. “Tell me again,” he said slowly, “what happened after you dropped the champagne glasses.”

She shrugged. “I ran like hell-I told you that. And I hid in the Dumpster-”

He held up a hand, stopping her. “How far were you from the alley? How sure are you that they saw you running?”

“Well, they had to know it was me,” she said with a snort.

“But-” and he was forming words carefully, reining in his hope with the ruthlessness of long practice “-how did they know? You ran like hell, you say-in what? Your high-heeled shoes?” His gaze shifted to the feet she’d tucked back under her chair, feet still clad in the tattered remains of white lace stockings. He heard a gasp, and looking once more at her face, found that she’d touched the fingertips of one hand to her swollen lip.

“My shoes. I think…I must have left them there. I heard the glasses shatter on the walk, and the next thing I knew I was running. I never even-but how could I have run like that in heels? I must have left them. So… that could have been how they knew it was me. Not that it makes a whole lot of difference…”

“Maybe it does…maybe it does.” The pulse was beating in his throat, now, so that he had to breathe carefully around it. “Think about it. Sonny and his men are talking. They can’t be looking out the window at that time, or they’d see you coming and shut up before you got there. They hear glass breaking. What do they do? What most people do-they freeze. For a second or two. Even if they react instantly, it takes a couple of seconds to get to the window. You’re already running. Maybe they catch a glimpse of you disappearing through the gate-maybe not. They run out, see the shoes and broken glasses. Meanwhile, you dive into the Dumpster. Your veil gets caught, the lid falls and hits you on the head-”

“Boy, did it ever. I’ve got a bump, even. And I actually saw stars-” Her voice broke off as Jake grabbed her arm and all but lifted her out of the chair. “What?”

“Come on-” and his voice was like a growl, low and intense “-go get your dress. Put it on-don’t bother with the buttons. We’re getting out of here. No, wait-”

“Where are we going?” He’d frightened her; she was breathless and pale, tense as wire.

“Let me have those pearls-hurry up-come on, take ‘em off.”

Her eyes held his, bright with questions, as she nevertheless lifted her hands to the back of her neck. After a moment she gave up her own attempt at the choker’s clasp and simply turned her back to him.

“I have an idea, but we have to move fast.” Jake frowned at his fingers as they slipped under the slightly curling ends of her short-cropped hair, dipped into the humid warmth inside the collar of his robe, found the clasp and opened it. When, without thinking, he rubbed his thumb over the tiny red mark the metal had left on her skin, he felt her shiver.

She turned again to face him, the fingers of one hand absently rubbing the place where the choker had been, and he knew the questions that must be quivering on her lips. But he had no time for questions then. Already he was opening a drawer, taking out a box of zippable plastic bags, pulling one out and dropping the pearls inside, while his mind rocketed on like a missile leaving its own noise behind.

He growled, “The rock, too-your engagement ring-come on, come on,” motioning impatiently when she looked confused. But she took off the diamond ring and gave it to him. Trusting him. And a part of him acknowledged that trust and was warmed by it as he dropped the ring into the bag with the pearls, returned it to the box it had come out of and the box to the drawer.

It was that warmth, and his fear of softening, that made his voice harsh when he spoke to her. “Go-get the dress on and meet me back here. Dammit, move-it’s been six hours already.”

But this time she stood where she was, hands clutching the lapels of the bathrobe. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” As softly as she spoke, Jake recognized the danger in her tone, as well as in the slight elevation of her chin. Trust him she might, but not blindly; it wasn’t in her nature.

He frowned, but let go of his impatience with a breath. “To the hospital. But I need to make a call first.” The receiver was already in his hand.

“The…hospital? But I’m not-I don’t need-”

Jake punched a button, then leveled a look at her, this time asking her for the trust she’d given so freely a few minutes before. “I think we might have a way out of this, but we have to hurry. I’ll explain on the way. Go.”

And he turned his back to her, already growling instructions into the phone. Eve waited for a moment, waiting for the spark of rebellion within her to mushroom into full-blown insurrection. When it didn’t happen, she gave a mental shrug and went. It wasn’t in her nature to take orders without a full and detailed explanation. But the man was… the FBI. And she had, after all, pretty much committed herself to his protection when she’d crawled into his surveillance van. Probably the least she ought to do was trust him.

Upstairs, she made use once more of the bathroom, then crossed into Jake’s small, spartan bedroom, unbelting the robe as she went. She shivered a little as she abandoned the warm terry cloth and its comforting masculine smells for the cold satin wedding gown and the sour odors of garbage and stale champagne. Though that seemed somehow weirdly appropriate to her, now. Once beautiful, the dress now seemed spoiled-in more ways than one. It felt contaminated… slimy against her skin.

She suppressed a shudder as she pulled the stiff, pearl-and-lace-encrusted bodice up and plunged her arms into the narrow sleeves. Then, holding up the top with one hand and the skirts with the other, she made her way carefully down the stairs.

She met Jake coming from the kitchen, the cordless phone still in his hand. “Can you help me-” she began, but he anticipated her request and brusquely waved it aside.

“Never mind the buttons-the dress is just for the witnesses, anyway.”

“What?” She looked at him blankly.

“In case anybody’s asked how you came in-to the emergency room, capish? They’ll remember a woman in a wedding dress.”

She breathed a silent “Oh” as he guided her past him, his manner almost deferential, not touching her, just a slight gesture toward her elbow. She felt the tension in him, the energy radiating from his body like heat from a stove. The exposed skin of her back felt it, too, and shivered as if something-the barest of touches-had skimmed across its surface.

When they were in the van, Jake said in the low but sharpedged murmur of a man intent on his mission, “Okay, here’s the story.” They were heading slowly out of the cul-de-sac, quiet at that hour except for the thumping of someone’s stereo. Eve turned her head to look at him and caught the grim shape of his profile, frozen in the cold illumination of a yard lamp. Feeling her eyes on him, he returned her glance, his eyes flicking to her throat and then to the hand with which she held the top of her dress in place just above her breasts. “You were mugged-robbed.” He hesitated for Eve’s bark of surprise, then shifted his gaze back through the windshield. “The assailant conked you on the head, took your necklace and engagement ring, then dumped you into the trash bin. You regained consciousness, crawled out of the bin and wandered off in a state of confusion. You apparently found your way into my unlocked van, where you once again lost consciousness. I only just found you and called the local police.” He glanced her way again, briefly. “An officer will meet us at the hospital to take your statement.”

Eve could think of nothing to say. At his first words her heartbeat had kicked into high gear, spurred by excitement, reaction…hope. Was it possible? Could this man really accomplish such miracles? Could Sonny be outwitted, his suspicions allayed, her life salvaged so easily? Even allowing for the resources of the FBI, it seemed too much to believe.

Almost as if he’d heard her thoughts, Jake went on in a flat, policeman’s drone that was somehow the more convincing for being utterly devoid of emotional intensity. “The police have been apprised of the situation and have promised cooperation. Medical personnel will be brought into the picture only on an as-needed basis, but-” and he flicked her a sardonic glance “-I don’t think it’s going to be necessary to tell them much. You look pretty convincing. In any case, you will be provided with all necessary verification and evidence of your injunes-”

“Injuries?” said Eve faintly.

“You suffered a concussion. Consequently, you have no memory of the attack, or of events immediately preceding or following the incident. Your family and, uh, loved ones will be notified as soon as you are able to identify yourself. You will probably be kept in the hospital for observation, however, as is customary with any potentially serious head injury

Her own eyes were fixed without focus on the windshield, but she felt his head turn toward her, and as they idled at a signal light, the long and weighty burden of his scrutiny. The light changed and as they moved forward again he added, “That gives you a day or two, if you need it.”

She nodded. Words screamed inside her mind, trapped behind the hand she’d clamped across her mouth; emotions tumbled futilely inside her, trapped simply by their own enormity. She sat trembling-ironically, now that her predicament seemed all but solved, on the verge of tears-feeling Jake’s glance brush her intermittently, like the sweep of a searchlight.

Finally, as the van turned off the main street and jolted through the hospital’s emergency entrance, driven to panic by the knowledge that the opportunity was about to slip by her, she blurted it out, and all of her horror, fear and despair was there in her voice for him to hear. And she felt more naked; the exposure was more intimate to her, than even the knowledge that he’d undressed her.

“What am I going to do?” she cried, in the rapid, breathless voice of a frightened child. “I can’t go back to Sonny-I can’t! If I don’t, he’ll know something’s wrong. But how can I go back to… being with him, knowing… what I know?”

“Well,” said Jake without much evidence of sympathy, “I guess you’d better hope you’re one hell of an actress.”

An incredulous gust of laughter blew away her tears. “The man was-is-my fiancé. You do realize what that means? He’s going to expect me to sleep with him. Can you imagine what that would be like? Nobody’s that good an actress!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jake said in a curiously acidic tone. But he checked himself, and his gaze slid past her to the side window as he jerked the van to a stop beside the E.R.’s double automatic doors. When he spoke again, it was in an altogether different voice-crisp, quiet, full of authority.

“Speaking of acting, it’s showtime. Slump down and put your head back-you’re supposed to be half-conscious, remember? One thing at a time. Right now let’s worry about saving your life. You can figured out what to do with it later.”

Eve muttered, “That’s easy for you to say.” But she did as he’d told her and slid down in the seat, closed her eyes and let her head flop to one side. She felt the driver’s side door of the van open and then slam shut. A moment later the door on her side opened, letting in a gust of damp October night.

“What are you doing?” she demanded in a squeaking whisper as an arm insinuated itself between her bare back and the seat cushion. A hand pushed roughly under her knees.

“Dammit, what do you think I’m doing?” His voice was so low, its vibrations were felt rather than heard, so near her ear, the breath that carried it was a gauzy stirring of warmth on her skin. “You’re barely conscious-what are you gonna do, walk in?”

“Oh…God.” That was all she could manage. Eve was not a small and dainty woman-five foot nine in her stockinged feet, at least; she hadn’t been carried since she was six years old.